


Useless Degrees

by sistabro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Beer, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-24
Updated: 2010-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-09 16:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sistabro/pseuds/sistabro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Chuck and beer after the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Useless Degrees

  
"Fuck, Sam, this fucking sucks," Chuck whines into his half empty mug of beer.

Sam squints at him from his remaining eye. "Uh, we saved the world, dude. Not seeing the suckage so much."

"Dude, you lost an eye and a hand. Seriously, that sucks."

"There is still beer and I can still drink it. Still counting it as a win."

Chuck concedes the point with a half salute of his glass before taking another swallow.

"Okay, yeah, beer is good. And I'm pretty happy about not being reduced to toilet paper hoarding dude in a world overrun with crazy killers." And hadn't that book been a bitch to write, with the two Deans and the white loafers of cheesiness, Christ. "It's just, what the fuck do I do now?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"Well, I mean, you read the books, right? I'm a shit writer, dude. It was the story that sold and it wasn't even mine, ya know? I'm a bad writer with no story and a fucking degree in Art History. What the fuck do I do with that?"

Sam gives him a single-eyed, incredulous stare. It's kinda creepy actually. "Wait, you got a degree in what?"

Chuck can feel his face heat up and takes another drink. Shit, he must be drunker than he thought. "Art History."

"Why the fuck would you even do that? Wait, you did it to meet girls, didn't you? Fuck man, that's just sad. I mean, yeah I took one art history class as a freshman, but a whole fucking degree?"

"I liked the statues," Chuck admits. "But like you're one to talk, Mr. Pre-Law. That's like a degree that can't even stand by itself, like preschool without kindergarten or something. At least mine is, ya know, useless on its own."

"Oh, fuck you. Pre-Law is way better than Art History. There's like ethics and philosophy and…well, shit."

Chuck raises his mug in triumph, point made, and finishes off his beer. Sam puts his own beer down to grab the pitcher, pours Chuck another one and tops off his own. His aim is a little off, but Chuck doesn't say anything cause, well, it's not Sam's fault he doesn't have any depth perception any more. He can totally be gracious in victory.

They drink in silence for a few minutes, pondering the bleakness of their futures in a non-post-apocalyptic world.

"Think you'll ever go back? Get a real degree?" Chuck asks after a while.

Sam's eye looks sideways to where is Dean is chatting up the bartender. "Nah, I think I'm good. You?"

Chuck tries to imagine sitting in a lecture hall with people half his age listening to some pompous asshole drone on about management or economics or some useful boring shit like that and shudders.

"Nah, I think I'm good, too. Writer's block can't last forever, right?"

"Right," Sam agrees firmly. He raises his glass, "To useless degrees."

"To useless degrees," Chuck echoes and the dull clink of the mugs meeting is oddly satisfying. The beer is also really good, cold and with a bitter bite. He chugs half his glass cause it's not like he has anywhere to be tomorrow being self–employed and all. He belches, then asks, "So, Mr. Freshman-Art-History-Class, Grant Wood or Grandma Moses?"

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, no offense intended towards any Art History or Pre-Law majors, really.


End file.
